I'm Wishing
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Daryl/Beth.. From the "House Call" series. They don't say anything, but Daryl lies there and he can hear Beth's mind racing a million miles a minute. It's moments like this that he hates that Beth didn't decide to marry someone a little bit better for her than Daryl Dixon; someone who would be able to give her anything and everything.


…

Abby Dixon follows her mom into the post office, relieved to see that it's not that busy at this hour. Her daddy says that postal workers work at the pace of a sloth and when Abby is helping her mom run errands and they have to go into the post office, their errand-running pace comes to a grinding halt and she has to agree with him.

" _Alright. Would you like to stay by the board or come with me?"_ Beth signs to her.

Abby is wearing her hearing aids, but when they are in public like this, Beth knows she prefers to sign. Abby has difficulty gauging the volume of her voice and she doesn't like others looking at her if she speaks too loud so she'll be able to hear her own voice. Everyone in their little town knows that Abby Dixon is almost completely deaf, but that doesn't stop them from looking over.

" _Board,"_ Abby signs back.

" _Stay where I can see you,"_ Beth tells her and Abby nods.

Beth kisses her on the head before going to go stand in the short line and Abby turns to the bulletin board hanging on the wall next to the post office doors. Abby likes looking at the board in the post office that has all sorts of fliers stapled to it.

Someone's beagle has just given birth to a little of pups they're selling. Abby stands on her toes to get a closer look at the photocopied picture below that show the puppies. The Dixons have Kyle, their cat, but Abby wonders what her parents think about getting a dog, too. Beagles are hunting dogs so maybe her daddy wouldn't be too against it. Abby rips off one of the tabs with the owner's phone number – just in case.

Another flier is to remind everyone of the crafts fair in the community center two weekends from now and someone is selling their television on another flier. Also, on the bulletin board, is a flier from the Sherriff's department with the Most Wanted for the county and another Most Wanted for the state. Abby likes looking at that one the most – not because those listed don't scare her, especially when she sees that a couple of them live very close to her own little town – but she admits that she just likes looking at it just to make sure that her Uncle Merle isn't listed.

She may be only eight and she may love her uncle very much, but she knows that he isn't the best man. Her parents sometimes talk around her when they think her aids aren't on and they forget that she can read lips. Abby doesn't know everything, but she knows enough. Uncle Merle gets into trouble – a lot. And it's not the kind of trouble that Hunter gets into either.

Abby knows that Uncle Merle tries to be a good person. He's just an idiot sometimes, according to daddy.

Thankfully, Uncle Merle's picture isn't listed this week.

The last flier is printed on bright yellow paper and Abby steps over so she's standing right in front of it.

CAMP BARNABAS SUMMER SEASON

Abby leans in closer so she can read more and when she does, she can't help, but gasp.

"Ready to go, Ms. Abby?" Beth asks, coming up to Abby's side instead of coming behind her so not to startle her. "Find anything good posted?"

Abby immediately points to the yellow paper and Beth leans in a little closer, too, so she can read it. After she does so, she then looks down to Abby before glancing once more to the paper.

" _Want to go to the library and look them up?"_ Beth signs.

Abby nods her head so quickly, it almost hurts her neck.

…

"Jesus," Daryl breathes as he and Beth sit up in their bed that night. The kids have gone to bed and Daryl is looking over the information that Beth has printed from the library's computer. "How much does this cost?"

"I was going to give them a call tomorrow," Beth answers, looking over her own portion of information. "I can't imagine it's cheap though. They need so much staff there to look after everyone. It's not just for blind or deaf children, but children with far more serious disabilities that would need care. That costs money."

Daryl is quiet as he reads over the general information for this Camp Barnabas.

It's a summer camp run by some Christian group and it is for disabled children; to give them the opportunity to go to a summer camp like any other kid. It's a good idea and Daryl's not against it – even if he's _never_ looked to Abby as anything disabled. The camp has swimming and horseback riding and canoes and even a rock climbing activity for the kids who want to try it. The deaf kids also have their own activities as do the blind kids and the cerebral palsy kids… it's not hard for Daryl to understand why Abby would want to go to a camp like this.

There aren't other kids in their little town like Abby. There was a baby born last year with Downs Syndrome, but no kids Abby's age are like her. She's the only one who has anything wrong with her – though Daryl knows he will fight anyone to the death if they say anything's wrong with his baby girl. So, her hearing sucks. So, what? But Abby doesn't see it like that. They live in a town that's not even a dot on the map. Having _anything_ different with you – especially when you're a kid – is going to stick out.

At this Camp Barnabas, there will be so many other kids just like her and to an eight-year-old, what matters more than that?

To her parents, Daryl and Beth want to be able to give her this. The camp really does look fantastic and they can imagine Abby having the time of her life during the five weeks there. But something else matters to them – the money to pay for it to happen for her because not only is it a camp for kids with special needs that adds to the price tag, it's also all the way in Missouri and they will have to get her and themselves there.

The Dixons aren't exactly rolling in extra piles of money. They never have been. Daryl had told Beth before she married him that they wouldn't have an easy life. Generic foods, no name brands, and coupons and shopping at the Salvation Army for most things, he warned her about all of that. He was a mechanic at a small garage in the middle of nowhere Georgia and Beth worked at a daycare center in the same middle of nowhere Georgia. When it was just the two of them, they were able to do alright. And then they had kids and money became more stretched, but still, they always managed as well as they could.

Since then, Daryl's quit the garage and has made a pretty decent living, making furniture and getting hired by people to do work on their houses, building or renovating. The Dixon family is not rich by any means. Some months, Beth and Daryl sit at the dining room table once the kids are upstairs in their beds, asleep, and they'll pour over their checking book and calculator, barely able to pay the bills that are due that month. But other months, they are able to be a bit more comfortable, putting any extra money they have away in their bank account, not touching it; saving it for just not a rainy day, but an entire monsoon.

Beth sighs heavily next to him and Daryl turns his head to look at her. He knows he doesn't tell her all of the time, but all of these years later since first seeing her next to her broken down car on the side of the road, he still thinks his wife is the prettiest girl in the world. But tonight, she's still pretty, but she looks exhausted.

Daryl doesn't say anything. He takes his papers and then the papers from her lap and stacking them together, he sets them down on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Beth slips down further beneath the covers, resting her head on the pillow and blinking up to the ceiling and Daryl flips the lamp off before settling himself down next to her. They don't say anything, but Daryl lies there and he can hear Beth's mind racing a million miles a minute. It's moments like this that he hates that Beth didn't decide to marry someone a little bit better for her than Daryl Dixon; someone who would be able to give her anything and everything.

"Hey," he says softly and Beth instantly turns her head on the pillow to look at him. In the dark bedroom, he finds her hand and grasping it with his own, he pulls it so it rests on his chest; over his heart. "We'll figure it out," he then promises her.

Beth nods at that without pausing to think it over. "We always do."

They both fall quiet again and Daryl doesn't know how much time passes before Beth's breath begins slowing down and she slips into sleep. Daryl is still awake though, still holding Beth's hand, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to go to sleep at all that night.

Beth's right. Somehow, they always _do_ find a way to come up with the money when times really call for it, but this thing for Abby, this Camp Barnabas, this is more money than they've ever needed towards one single thing before and short of robbing a bank, Daryl has now idea how they'll be able to ever come up with it.

…

"Mama?"

Beth lifts her head from island in the middle of their kitchen where she's rolling out dough. Sometimes, she just gets in these moods to bake something and today, she had had a taste for pumpkin pie. She firmly believes that pumpkin pie should not just be reserved for the fall months and she makes it all year round.

Hunter stands there and he's holding something grasped in both hands.

"What is it, baby?" Beth asks, wiping her hands on the apron she wears.

Hunter doesn't say anything. He just holds up his hands, uncurling his fists, and Beth sees that he's holding onto crumbled dollar bills in his hands. "This is from helping Grandpa on the farm," he informs him.

Daryl and Beth have told Hershel before – too many times to count – that he does _not_ have to pay the kids when they help him out with various chores on the farm, but Hershel has always taken that as a suggestion and has never listened to them. He doesn't pay his grandkids a fortune – just a few dollars here and there, but to kids, that's all the money in the world.

"It's not much," Hunter continues. "Fourteen dollars, but I want you to have it."

Beth's brow furrows as she shakes her head. "That's your money, Hunter. You've earned it. Why would you give it to me?" She wonders.

"So Abby can go to that camp."

Beth feels a pull in her stomach and a twist in her chest that makes her want to start crying right then and there. Thankfully, she's able to get herself under control and she gives Hunter the smallest smile. Hunter may not have the patience for hunting like Daryl, Luke and Abby do, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be a good one. Like his dad and siblings, Hunter is able to see things that maybe other kids his age would miss.

Maybe he saw Beth and Daryl sitting at the dining room table, searching and scrounging for money in their checkbook that just isn't there or maybe he heard Beth talking to her mom on the phone, gently asking her if she and Hershel had any money she and Daryl could borrow. They've never asked to borrow money from their family before no matter how hard times have gotten and Beth hated doing it now, but she and Daryl just don't have the kind of money that it takes to send Abby to Camp Barnabas.

Annette and Hershel have been more than happy to help – and have refused Beth and Daryl's promise that they would pay them back in time (even though Beth and Daryl have every intention of paying her parents back whether they want the money back or not) – and their aid has certainly gotten them closer to the goal, but it's still not enough.

And fourteen dollars certainly won't push them past the finish line, but just the idea that her eleven-year-old son is so selfless and wanting to help his little sister, it overwhelms Beth with so much love for Hunter in that moment, she can't do anything other than hug him right then.

"You're the best big brother in the world, Hunter," she tells him quietly, her arms still around him.

"Even better than Uncle Shawn or Uncle Merle or even Luke?" Hunter asks with a grin, teasing her.

Beth smiles, too, a breath of laughter escaping past her lips and she kisses Hunter on top of the head.

…

Even at eight-years-old, Abby knows her family isn't rich. They live in a nice house, but it's a house that didn't used to be nice and her daddy worked hard to make it so. She watches movies and television shows and sees the kinds of lives those families live and Abby knows her family isn't like that. She's never cared though because her mama makes the best tuna casserole and chocolate peanut butter cookies and her daddy built her a dollhouse out of wood instead of buying some plastic thing from a toy store and she and her brothers have a huge yard and woods to play in and Abby's never wanted anything more than that.

Until she saw the flier for Camp Barnabas and she began dreaming about how amazing it would be to go there and how she wants to be able to go there more than anything she's wanted in her life. She looks at the flier that she keeps on her dresser every morning and every night before she goes to bed and she imagines all of the things she'd be able to do at that camp. She really wants to try rock climbing. She also imagines meeting her best friend there – another deaf girl or boy and they'll be able to talk and make jokes all in sign language and it will be the best summer.

So when the camp starts in just two months and her parents sit her down, telling her with sad faces that she won't be able to go because they can't get the money together, Abby can't help, but burst into tears. She can't help it. She wants to go so much and her parents have always been able to come through. When Luke had wanted that fancy set of paints, her parents had managed to get it for him and when Hunter wanted that Power Wheels car for Christmas, it had been the only present he had gotten that year, but he had gotten it.

She doesn't understand why they can't get this for her.

"We're sorry, baby," Beth says, pulling her into her lap and hugging her close and she's crying, too, and Abby hates seeing her mama cry, but she can't stop crying herself. "We're sorry. We can keep saving and maybe we'll be able to get you there next year. We'll keep saving, Abby. I promise you."

Abby buries her wet face to the side of Beth's throat and Beth kisses her forehead every few seconds and strokes gentle fingers through Abby's hair, rocking her like she's a baby and not an eight-year-old girl; a big girl like her grandpa tells her that she is. A big girl doesn't sit in her mama's lap and cries over something that was never completely promised to her in the first place, but Abby doesn't care about what a big girl does and doesn't do. She had just thought… her parents can do _anything_ and she had just thought…

Beth lifts her eyes when she hears the slap of the front screen door and sees that Daryl has left the house and a moment later, she hears the rumble of his truck's engine as he drives away from the house. She wonders where he's going, but Abby is still crying on her lap and Beth's thoughts are quickly consumed with her again.

…

Merle stumbles from his bed to the front door, snarling and ready to murder whoever is knocking on his door right now at nine fucking o'clock in the morning. He's only just fallen into bed two hours earlier.

"Wha'?" Merle growls when he throws the door open, but stops himself from murder when he sees his little brother standing on the front step.

Daryl doesn't say anything and pushes past Merle to come into the house. Merle turns towards him and there's a rock in his stomach as he watches Daryl beginning to pace the length of the small, messy living room, looking like a caged raccoon stuck in a trap.

"Is it Beth? Are the kids okay?" Merle asks; demanding, his stomach already twisting.

Daryl stops pacing immediately and looks to his older brother. "I know you're still dealin' sometimes on the side and I need you to cut me in on it."

"Wha'?" Merle almost chokes on the word.

"I need the money," Daryl explains and to Daryl, that's probably enough of an explanation, but it sure as hell isn't enough for Merle.

Daryl has never dealt. Never. And he's never expressed an interest to. Yeah, he's taken shrooms and pills before, but nothing like Merle or the groups they hung around with take and then he had gotten himself his own little cabin in the woods and a job and then he got married and had kids. Dealing or even _thinking_ of dealing has never been in Daryl's life plan.

And Merle won't let it be.

"For that camp for Abby?" Merle guesses.

"It's too… it's too fuckin' much and me and Beth can't swing it and I'm sendin' my girl to that camp. 'm not gonna be like the old man who can't give his kids shit."

Merle isn't going to point out to Daryl that he's as far from Will Dixon as man can be. It's still too early for him for that particular conversation and Merle would rather have a drink than talk about that right now.

He goes into the kitchen and opens his refrigerator. There's just beer cans and a jar of mustard and another of grape jelly. Beth has Daryl drop a Tupperware of food off at least three times a week so she can make sure he's eating something other than Taco Bell. He actually has a washed out container on the counter to give to Daryl to take home so Beth can fill it again with whatever the family has for dinner next.

Without a word, he slides one of the beers on the counter for Daryl to take before taking one for himself. Dixons have never given a shit about the time on the clock when it comes to drinking.

"Sit," he orders him and Daryl takes the beer and goes to the couch like Merle has ordered.

Merle doesn't sit with him though. He takes his beer into the bathroom with him and digs the envelope he keeps there in the plastic bag in his toilet tank. Out in the living room, he tosses the envelope to Daryl's chest.

"'m not lettin' you do that to Beth or your kids," is all he says and then settles himself down in his recliner, snapping the tab of his beer and taking a guzzle.

Sitting forward, Daryl sets the can down on the coffee table and opens the envelope. He freezes when he sees what's inside and then he looks to Merle – silent, but obviously asking.

"Relax. I wasn' plannin' on gettin' my niece to camp with drug money," Merle says.

"Then where?" Daryl asks.

"Took up a collection at the bar, so I'm sure there's _some_ dirty money in there, but not all of it. Told everyone there that my brother and sister-in-law had to get my niece to camp in a couple of months. Gave some of my plasma, too, and got a bit from it," Merle says and shrugs as if what he's done isn't that big of a deal. "Was waitin' to give it to you and Beth until I had a bit more, but I wasn' plannin' on you bargin' in here, talkin' about becomin' a drug dealer."

Daryl stares at him for a long moment and then looks to the cash stuffed into the envelope, his thumb slowly flipping through the bills, counting the amount to himself.

"It enough?" Merle asks after another guzzle of beer.

From the couch, Merle can see Daryl swallow and he doesn't say anything and Merle knows that it is.

Daryl holds the envelope between both of his hands tightly and he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he's breathing quickly, but he's trying to steady it out and he looks back to Merle. His baby brother's eyes look a bit wet to him, but Merle thinks it might be too early still and he's imagining it. Or maybe he's not and if he's not, he's not going to call Daryl out on it. Not this time anyway.

"Who the fuck would pay you for _your_ plasma?" Daryl wonders and Merle just laughs at that.

…

* * *

 **This idea has been in my head for over a week now and I was finally able to get it out. There is a Camp Barnabas in Missouri for special-needs children and I don't know how much that one exactly costs, but I know that other similar camps run into the thousands of dollars.**

 **Thank you so, so much for reading and I hope you liked this one!**


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